

iW 



4.WItD ^i 
MtADOWS 





i^'-ary of Coiif^ 



LIBRARY OF CONGRESS. 

Chap, _. Copyright lifo, 

Shelf_.,.WS 7 



UNITED STATES OF AMERICA. 



WAIFS 



FROM 



WILD MEADOWS 



BY 

NELLE WOMACK. 



Atlanta: 

The Foote & Davies Company, 

printers and binders, 

1808. 






2G6 



COPYEIGHT, 1898, 
BY 

Nelle Womack. 



(( JUN . 






<-»iA .->- 1- 



ED' 
1396. 



To 

My Father and Mother. 



WAIFS FROM WILD MEADOWS. 



A GEORGIA SUNRISE. 

I luv' tei* git up mornin's when the chickins 'gin ter 
crow, 

An' go out into the air so fresh an' still ; 
An' wander ter the meadows an' set dow^n on a log, 

An' watch ol' Georgy's sun dim' o'er the hill. 

At fust, things seem so solemn, with a gray mist 
creepin' 'round. 
An' the meadows sweet with clover at yer feet ; 
Yer may talk o' rose an' lilies, but I'll tell yer, ter my 
min' , 
Clover jes' beats all creation smellin' sweet ! 

An' the stars a-winkin', blinkin' — lookin' down with 
curious eyes, 
As if they'd never see'd me thar before ; 
An' I've been ter that same place at least a hundred 
times. 
An' I'm not so sho' but what it might be more. 



6 Waifs from Wild Meadoios. 

See! ablush cums ter the eastern sky, as if it wus 
ashamed, 

An* then sum faintest streaks o' yaller-red, 
Cum peepin' o'er the rim, jes' like a naughty boy 

Skeared so bad that they wus nearly dead. 

An' when they're mighty sho' the stars won't say, 
''boo!" 
They grow a little bigger an' more bold ; 
An' they look so all important, like they 'us warmin' 
uv the way 
Ter keep that big ol' sun frum ketchin' cold ! 

Now they're gittin' bigger fer they're swellin' with 
their pride, 

An' the sun's a-foUerin' uv 'em close behin', 
An' the fust thing yer know, its broad daylight. 

An' a-gettin' purty close ter breakfast-time. 



SOME SWEET DAY. 

Some sweet day the stars will gi*ow old, 

And the sun will burn away ; 
Eternal rest will her wings unfold, 
Some sweet day. 



Waifs from Wild Meadows. 

The dead will arise from their graves once more, 

And their faces, pale and gray, 
Will resume the brightness of long ago, 

Some sweet day. 
"When the leaves of the judgment book unfold," 

Our bui*dens will steal away. 
Silently, as the Arabs of old, 

Some sweet day. 
Ah, sweet will it be for souls opprest, 
When the angel of God shall say : 
"Enter thou unto thy rest," 
Some sweet day. 



A SONG OF JUNE. 

June ! and the roses with pleasure sway. 

To live, to breathe, on such a day ! 

While their crimson sweetness and perfumed breath, 

Grow faint with the dream of sweet June's death. 

June ! and glad is all the land. 

With the magic touch of June's fair hand ; 

The humming-bird reels, and his wee bill drips 

With the sweetness, sipped from the roses' lips ! 



8 Waifs from Wild Meadows. 

June ! and the green fern's netted lace, 
Kisses the water's placid face ; 
Where star-eyed lilies dream away, 
The hours of this summer's day. 

June ! and love has come to me — 
From an unknown land beyond some sea; 
Where eyes e'er smile, and hearts ne'er sever, 
Where love e'er reigns, and 'tis June forever. 

June ! and my love's hand so fair. 
Twines a white rose in her hair ; 
How my heart thrills ! though now 'tis 'lone, 
Some day 'twill call this love its own ! 

June ! and the white rose her head bends. 
To breathe the charm love's presence lends ; 
The drear doth ne'er with her abide, 
'Tis always June when by her side ! 

June ! and the whole world heaves a sigh. 

To think that June should ever die ; 

Though months may pass 'neath Time's swift feet. 

Still true to June our fond hearts beat ! 



Waifs from Wild Meadows. 

MY LADY'S FAN. 

My lady's fan is a wonderful thing I 

Rare sieges it has stood — 
'Tis a part of her — and thus betrays 

My lady's every mood. 
It has pressed my lady's tear-dimmed eye — 

It has kissed her cheek aglow — 
feathery fan of my lady fair, 

You have broken hearts galore ! 
It has sheltered my lady's blushing face 

From my eye's tender light — 
It has wafted me up to the realms of day, 

And cast me back to night ! 
But — my lady's fan I'll ne'er forget, 

Though all else from my mem'ry slips. 
For 'twas first behind my lady's fan, 

That I kissed my lady's lips ! 



THE WOMAN DEAD. 

There was once a dead woman lying low 

Alone in the mouldy ground ; 
And a rose-bush grew from her heart, to gaze 

On the desolate waste around. 



10 Waifs from Wild Meadows. 

And the rose-bush said, *'0 woman dead ! 

Your lover comes each day ; 
And waters my bloom with the tears he sheds, 

E'er he sadly goes his way." 

And the woman dead rose out of her grave 
And her still, calm face was pale ; 

And her clinging shroud and her tangled hair, 
Blew out on the gathering gale ! 

-Said the woman dead, "My love most true, 

Is weeping his heart away ; 
But I'll go and tell him I love him still 

And my lips on his lips lay." 

But see ! he a living woman holds 

Close to his warm breast ; 
And says, ''Oh yes, I loved — but she's dead — 

Besides — I love you best." 

And the gathering gale burst forth with a cry, 

And sobbed and beat its breast ! 
And the dead woman said, as she lay in her grave, 

"Thank God, I'm here at rest !" 



Waifs from Wild Meadows. 11 

A SILVER LININ'. 

Hello, little girlie ! what they bin a-doin' ter you, 
The sun is quit a-shinin' an' yer 're feelin' kinder 

blue? 
Why ain't yer heard that sayin', "a silver linin' hath 

every cloud?" 
An' it's fer me an' you — thar now — smile an' look up 

proud, 

An' I'll tell yer uv a secret : 'hind them clouds thar 

every one 
Thar's an angel that's a-dippin' uv his brushes in the 

sun, 
An' repaintin' all the linin's uv the clouds that's kinder 

old— 
The folks, they say it's silver, but I'm purty sho' its 

gold. 

Fer ain't yer ever noticed down about the western sky, 
or Sol sot in a bank o' clouds, like a king with sar- 

vants nigh. 
An' yer could see the linin's edges, wus it silver? wus 

it gold? 
I don't need no specs ter tell me, though I am a- 

gittin' old ! 



12 Waifs from Wild Meadows. 

Don't grieve an' fret that heart uv yours no longer, 

little girl, 
When the rainbow uv God's promise is a-bendin' o'er 

this world ; 
An' if yer do yer best, be it dark or be it light. 
You rest yer heart, yer Saviour '11 make it all come 

right ! 

Look thar, little girlie, the sun has come out sho'. 
An' them shadows made the sunshine all the brighter, 

"don't yer kno' ; 
An' the angels is a-fixin' up that cloud fer you an' me. 
An' itslinin' 'longs ter us, dear, gold or silver though 
it be! 



TOO LATE. 



I lay still one night and they said I was dead. 
My coffin with garlands wreathed ; 

And waxen flowers against my cheek. 
Their faint, sweet perfume breathed. 



Waifs from Wild Meadows. 13 

But I was dead to the world alone, 

As I lay in the glimmering light ; 
For I saw each face that hovered near, 

And I heard each word that night. 

But I was there at rest — at last, 

Unheeded sped the time ; 
I only seemed to know and feel 

That perfect rest was mine. 

How often had I longed for this, 

When I should be no more. 
But silent, cold and lifeless lay. 

No mortal pain to know ! 

And then — you bent above me, 

Your tear-drops falling fast ; 
They burned into my very soul. 

And brought me back the past ! 

You whispered that you loved me. 

Had loved but me for years — 
And my face was warm and wet, love. 

With your kisses and your tears ! 



14 Waifs from Wild Meadows. 

And then to feel I could not stir, 
Not even raise my head — 

Nor answer you with loving words, 
That I — God — was dead! 

Why did you send me from you 
With words of scorn and hate? 

Now I'm dead — you say you love me, 
But the knowledge comes — too late ! 

Unsatisfied my soul shall roam. 

Through all eternity, 
And my suffering shall be known. 

Alone to God and me ! 



SOMEWHERE— SOMETIME. 

I only know, somewhere, somewhere, 
Beneath God's glorious skies ; 

That a maiden sweet 

Awaits to greet 
Me with tender love-lit eyes. 



Waifs from Wild Meadows. 15 

I only know, sometime, sometime, 
In the happy is-to-be ; 

This maiden fair 

With wind-blown hair, 
Will wander home to me. 

I only know, my love, my love. 
In sunshine and cloudy weather ; 

Thou, maiden sweet, 

And my willing feet. 
Will wander through life together. 



LIFE'S WORK. 

One day I prayed (though God knew best) 
That He send to me His Angel of Rest ; 
For I longed with a heart all burden-sore. 
To dwell with my Saviour forevermore. 

Oh, that sense of freedom from earthly care. 
As my soul sprung out into God's pure air ! 
But, looking back to my body dead, 
I beheld a map before me spread. 



16 Waifs from Wild Meadows. 

And there I saw with eyes anew, 
The work each mortal had to do 
And suffer, ere Heaven's gates were won ; 
I looked, and lo ! mine was left undone ! 
I turned to the angel in dumb surprise. 
And read the sad light in his sorrowing eyes ; 
"Oh, Angel of Death, return I pray — 
Let me finish my work ere I go my way !" 
A look of joy lit up his face, 
. As back to my body's resting-place 

Our spirits flew; and I came back to life. 
With heart anew for the worldly strife. 
Now I'm content to work and to pray, 
And to live in my Master's mapped-out way ; 
For I know some day with the setting sun. 
He'll call me home when my work is done. 



THE FIRE FIEND. 

Oh, the Fire Fiend's out in the town to-night, 

(And the wind blows hard and strong) 
And he shrieks and he laughs with a fierce delight 
At the sight of faces pale with fright, 
As he leaps with the wind along. 



Waifs from Wild Meadows. 17 

Oh, the Fire Fiend's come to the town again, 

(For his hot breath fills the air) 
And he laps his arms 'bout the homes of men, 
God, in mercy and pity bend. 

And hear the people's prayer ! 

Oh, the Fire Fiend's out in the town to-night, 

(Though the people are working fast) 
And he kisses a cheek with his scorching breath. 
Then flings it down to the jaws of death 
To meet its God at last. 

Oh, the Fire Fiend came to the town last night, 

(It once was a town at least) 
But the pitying sun's soft rays fall down 
On one vast, blackened, smoking mound, 

To show w^here he had his feast. 



VALENTINES A-COMIN'. 

With Valentines a-comin', an' the sky a-showin' blue, 
With jes' enough o' clouds ter keep the sun a-peepin' 
through ; 



18 Waifs from Wild Meadows. 

An' every little violet a-tryin' uv its best, 

Ter hold its head up higher, an' smell sweeter 'en the 

rest; 
With that Valentine a-comin' frura one that's good an 

true. 
An' you a-lovin' them as hard as they're a-lovin' you ; 
What more now could yer want ter keep yer happiness 

in swing ? 
'Cep' a mortgage on the earth, an' a fence a-roun' the 
^ thing. 

Sum folks they never seem ter know jes' when they 

git enough. 
An' never quit, but rake an' scrape' an' pack an' jam 

an' stuff ; 
An' still they keep a-reachin' out, uv gold they're 

wantin' more. 
But if they jes' would look a-roun' it's lyin' 'bout the 

floor, 
Fer the sunshine's alius golden, an' the violets at yer 

feet 
Keeps a-sendin' up their perfume, 'tel it almos' makes 

you sweet ; 



Waifs from Wild Meadows. 19 

An' with Valentines a-comin', now fer what more 

could yer sing ? 
'Cep' that mortgage on the earth, an' a fence a-roun' 

the thing. 

But that has alius been the way, frum Adam's time 

tel now 
A feller never got a house but what he'd want a cow ; 
No sooner would the cow be thar, before a mule he'd 

buy. 
An' if sum sheep he couldn't git, he knowed he'd sho'ly 

die; 
But giv' ter me the sunshine an' the skies a-smilin' so, 
With violets a-noddin' as the breezes com' an' go. 
An' Valentines a-comin' frum yer loved ones an' the 

rest, 
An' ril not want a blamed thing else, but think I'm 

wondrous blest ! 



REGRET. 

Dear heart, I do not blame you, 
We reap as we have sown ; 

Not being worthy of your love, 
It has taken wings and flown ; 



20 Waifs from Wild Meadows. 

But I have dearly loved you, 

More, with each passing hour, 

But you can't expect a butterfly 
To love a sombre flower. 

But, oh, to think as day after day 

Into the dead past slips, 
I'll feel no pressure of your hand 

Or the touch of your dear lips ! 
I wonder that I do not die 

With vain and mad regret ! 
What is it that you answer? 

Forget, sweetheart, forget? 

When for the last time on this earth 

The sons of men have met — 
When the last pale moon has risen, 

That day will I forget ! 
Forget — that you ceased to love me. 

Remember — I love you yet, 
And wandering through eternity. 

The past— we'll both forget ! 



Waifs from Wild Meadows. 21 

ONE DAY. 

IN MEMORY OF F, A. U. 

One sad day, when the earth was fair 

God said to an angel waiting there : 

"Go thou to earth to my garden of flowers, 

And search ye most careful in all of its bowers ; 

And bring me a rose, one lovely— dear, 

That I may transplant to my garden up here." 

Swift-winged the angel took his flight. 
And reached the garden one sad night, 
And searched. At last, a rose found there, 
Full-blown, perfect and most fair; 
Then gently plucked the fragrant flower, 
To bloom again in Heaven's bower. 

One sad day, we were left to weep. 
For the lovely rose we could not keep ; 
But humbly say : ''He knoweth best ; 
He has taken the flower with Him to rest !" 
And the pale dew wept at set of sun. 
And whispered soft, "Thy will be done !" 



22 Waifs from Wild Meadows. 

One glad day when the earth is fair, 

More flowers will be culled for the garden there ; 

And the rose by the angel taken in flight, 

From this dark earth to the Land of Light, 

Will be found still blooming, more sweet, more dear. 

Than the day it was plucked from the garden here. 



THE MYSTICAL RIVER. 

There's a mystical river in the far-away, 
And it borders an unknown land ; 

And countless throngs, though unaware, 
Are walking along the strand. 

A little child is drawing near. 

On the brink she takes her stand. 

With a puzzled look in her serious eyes. 
As she watches a beckoning hand. 

But a sweet voice calls, ''Come over, my child," 

She starts, and pauses no more, 
But fixes her sweet eyes on the shadowy form 

That stands on the other shore. 



Waifs from Wild Meadoivs. 28 

But hark ! Hear that shriek that startles the air, 
And there, trembling, stands a man. 

With horror and fear in his eyes as he looks 
Across to the unknown land ! 

Then 'tis over. A woman now slowly comes forth, 

Most slowly— and falters oft. 
While dim eyes gaze as if to pierce 

The mystic veil. Then soft 

A voice falls on the evening air, 

"And the weary are at rest," 
Then a sweet smile steals across her face, 

As she sinks to the river's breast. 

Some sweet day in the far away 

We'll all cross that shining strand. 

And pass over the Mystical River of Death, 
And explore that Unknown Land ; 

"Where the wicked cease from troubling," 
And the world-worn soul opprest. 

Will be lightened of all its burden, 
"And the weary will be at rest." 



24 Waifs from Wild Meadows. 

TWILIGHT. 

The day is dead; but still faint streaks of crimson, 

blue and gold, 
Are mingled 'mong the western clouds, as if a painter 

bold 
Had dipped his brush into the sun, and borrowed of 

the sky, 
But got his colors all mixed up and put them on 

-awry. 

And then, as if not satisfied, he into a passion flew — 
And here and there you see great dabs of red or a 

golden hue — 
Until sweet night her sable curtain o'er them gently 

lay, 
And they slowly, slowly, melt and fade, and die with 

the closing day. 

Then the shadows close around you and hem in 
twilight's hour. 

And you see the diamond drops agleam on the up- 
turned face of a flower ; 



Waifs from Wild Meadows. 25 

And I haven't a doubt but you think it's dew— but I'll 

tell you what they said ; 
That they were the tears that the stars had shed, 

because of the day that's dead ! 

From the daisied dell the soft, sad mourn of a dove 

doth slowly creep. 
And the new moon shines with a hazy light, and the 

stars come out to peep. 
Then the faint sound of a bell comes o'er from the lea 

where you often roam. 
And the shadows creep still closer and the cows are 

coming home. 

Then a feeling of sad, sweet sorrow that is more of 

pleasure than pain, 
Comes gently stealing o'er you, and then is gone 

again ! 
And you can not tell, and will never know just why 

that feeling was born — 
But now the night has come to reign, and twilight 

hour is gone ! 



26 Waifs from Wild Meadows. 

LARNIN' TER RIDE. 

I never knowed much o' hardships, 

An' little o' human pride, 
'Tel I went an' bought a bisickle, 

An' started ter learn ter ride ; 
They told me all I had ter do 

Wus jes' ter balance the thing, 
An' jes' ter keep on peddlin', 

An' she'd go like a bird on wing. 

I'll never forgit the fust time 

I got up on the seat ; 
I got all twisted an' tangled up. 

Guess I wus too much feet ; 
An' when the thing 'ud go ter fall 

I'd turn it t'other way — 
Then, Csesar ! I'd hav' a chance 

Ter view the stars by day ! 

One time the critter run away — 
Me grippin' the handle-bars, 

If I couldn't stop the thing, I knew 
I'd land up 'mong the stars ; 



Waifs from Wild Meadows. 27 

We didn't go more 'en ten miles 

Er maybe a leetle futher, 
Then over we pitched in a ten-foot ditch, 

An' yer couldn't tell which wus tother ! 

Thar war'n't a rock er stump, but what 

That blamed thing 'ud see it sho', 
'Twould run like mad, me cussin' hard, 

An' over we both 'ud go ! 
Larned yet ? Wall no— yer see I've bin 

Ter the dry dock fer repairs ! 
The bisickle ? Oh, it's still in the ring, 

But I've got it chained down upstairs ! 



TWO GRAVES. 

There's a grass-green grave 'neath a willow tree, 

With daisies growing nigh, 
And a slim, white slab, with solemn mien, 

Looks up to the summer sky. 
And the breeze makes love to the daisy, 

While the daisy bends its head. 
And the cool dew rains upon the grave 

Of this woman lying dead. 



28 Waifs from Wild Meadows. 

There's a grave of my dear, lost love that's hid 

Deep in this heart of mine — 
The world may see that grave out there — 

But of this I make no sign, 
But silently mourn I for my love. 

The woman ? Do I e'er regret ? 
Ah ! no, for she was as false as sin ! 

But the love — I can't forget. 



PICTURES IN THE FIRE. 

It always sets me dreaming. 
When I see the firelight gleaming, 

And vague shadows chase each other on the wall ; 
I want no other light there, 
Just the coals that shine so bright there, 

To dream of you is best life after all. 
Now I see a cozy nest, love. 
Where I so would like to rest, love. 

O'er the door the honeysuckles all a-climb ; 
There's some one in the door, love. 
And my heart is running o'er, love, 

For I dream that it is you — and you are mine ! 



Waifs from Wild Meadows. 29 

The dream makes me forget, sweet, 
But then comes the old regret, sweet, 

My heart would break for just one glimpse of you. 
My lips are aching so, sweet, 
For touch of yours once more, sweet, 

But firelight fades — I know it can't come true. 

Old-time longing comes again, dear. 
Once more your presence lend, dear. 

That I may dream you live — mine as of yore ; 
Some day I'll read your eyes, dear. 
And see the glad surprise, dear, 

'Twill be worth the years of waiting that I bore. 



AFTER THE DANCE. 

Tread softly, my lady is thinking. 

As she sits in the firelight dim ; 
Speak gently, my lady is dreaming. 

And her dreams are — of him — of him ! 
And of how at the dance this evening 

He held her hand so tight, 
While dark eyes looked love into blue ones, 

As they stepped the measures light. 



80 Waifs from Wild Meadows. 

Of how, in the starlit garden, 

Her heart on his soft words hung ; 
How her cheeks grew rosy with blushes 

At hearing their praises sung ; 
And of how — what, tears, my lady? 

Why, surely you didn't cry ! 
It must have been the starlight 

That sparkled in your eye. 



There's no telling what joy will bring us, 

And maybe the tear was right ; 
And I'm sure 'tis a tear I see now 

As she murmurs, "God keep him this night!" 



FAITH. 



A weary woman onward pressed, 
Nor did she note the gathering night ; 

A cross she bore, nor paused to rest. 
Though hot tears dimmed her dark'ning sight. 



Waifs from Wild Meadows. 

Still tired eyes, with vacant stare, 
Sought the beacon light on high ; 

"God give me strength my cross to bear," 
The white lips moaned with heavy sigh. 

The night comes down ; soon thunders thick 

Peal out ; the rain pours hard ; 
In the heavens the lightning's flashes quick 

Paint the anger of an outraged God, 
From the woman's lips there falls a prayer, 

As she clasps her cross to her aching side, 
"O God, for strength this cross to bear! — 

For strength to bear it to thy side !" 

"Dear Lord, I by thy will abide," 

The sad eyes now no longer weep, 
For there upon the mountain-side 

God lets her gently fall to sleep. 
And when she wakes — oh, heavenly light ! — 

Her glad eyes gaze in wonder 'round. 
Her cross is gone — 'tis no longer night — 

And at her feet she finds a crown ! 



32 Waifs from Wild Meadows. 

TURNOVERS. 

Yer may talk o' pies an' puddin's, 
0' dumplin's, tarts an' cake; 

But they're not *'in it" 'longside apple 
Turnovers my ma used ter make. 

I've eat a lots o' sweet things 
That the foreign "chefs" do bake; 

They don't set my mouth a-waterin' like 
Turnovers my ma used ter make. 

When I cum home in the evenin' 
Frum school so tired an' hot, 

I'd take me a hand o' turnovers 
An' go set on the fence at the lot. 

An' listen ter the whip-per-will singin' 
An' the cry o' poor "Bob White," 

As he'd say so sad an' mournful 
An' soft, "Are yer peas all ripe?" 

I'd begin ter feel so drowsy. 
An' the breeze so cool an' sweet, 

That after I eat my turnovers, 
I'd almos' go ter sleep. 



Waifs from Wild Meadows. 33 

An' onct I did, an' dreamed 

Uv sum Injuns I'd shot dead, 
An' I fell clean off that blamed lot-fence 

An' almos' broke my head ! 

But oh, them apple turnovers ! 

That my ma used ter make. 
In spite o' pies an' puddin's, ter me. 

They'll alius ''take the cake !" 



ONLY. 

Only a little hasty word — 

Then a gleam of sad surprise, 
And two big diamond tear-drops 

Shine in the darling's eyes ; 
Only the sound of a stifled sob 

As the tear-drops fall away, 
And the echo of a footstep faint. 

As she sadly goes to play. 

Only a little rose-flushed face 
That glows in a frame of gold ; 

Only two thin, wasted arms- 
Two hands that are damp and cold ; 



34 Waifs from Wild Meadoivs. 

Only a heart that is breaking, 
Beneath His will divine, 

Only a soul that cries and pleads, 
'*God, spare this child of mine !" 

Only a little daisied mound 

Beneath the starlight dim, 
Only the voice of a mocking-bird 

As it sings a requiem ; 
Only a flood of silent tears 

That bathes the daisy's head, 
Only a sobbing voice that cries 

Aloud for its precious dead ! 

Only a little fairy form 

Robed in purest white. 
Upward borne by angel hands 

Out of the land of night ; 
Only a happy little face 

In a halo of shining hair ; 
One more soul in the spirit-band 

When the angels go to prayer. 



Waifs from Wild Meadows, 35 

A LOVE-SONG. 

Why do I love you? I can't tell you, sweet ; 

I love you for everything ! 
For the clover that's leaning and kissing your feet, 

For the birds that in joyousness sing ! 

For the sunny light in your gold -brown hair, 

For that curl behind your ear ; 
For the coral red on your lips so rare, 

For your soul that is crystal clear. 

For the rose that hides blushing (she knows you are 
near) , 

While her sweetness the honey-bee sips ; 
But all he could gather in a thousand years 

Could be found in one kiss from your lips ! 

For the light in your eyes that brings me rest, 

(God gi'ant we may never part !) 
But I love you last, and sweetest, and best, 

Because you are mine, sweetheart ! 



86 Waifs from Wild Meadows. 

DEATH'S COMING. 

Death came to my door and knocked one night 

(But Life was a guest therein) ; 
"To live! to live!" was my soul's loud cry, 
" 'Tis sweet to live, I can not die 

Leave me till you come again !" 

Death came to my door again and knocked 

(But Love was a guest that day) ; 
''Oh ! heart of my heart, my love, my life, 
How can I leave you to toil, to strife? 

Death, spare me again, I pray !" 

Death came again to knock at my door 

(But Contentment abode in my hall) ; 
"I have Life, I have Love, and contented I be, 
Death, you're unwelcome, you're loathsome to me! 



Death cometh not now to knock at my door 

(For Sorrow there singeth her song) , 
And I list and I long with a heart that is sore. 
For his step, for his voice, for his knock at the door; 

How long must I wait, Death — how long? 



Waifs from Wild Meadows. 87 

GOOD-BY. 

Good-by ! Oh, must it be good-by ? 

Must this poor heart of mine 
Thy cold looks bear, and with no sigh 

Tear from its sacred shrine 
All love, all tender thoughts of you, 

Nor leave the smallest part. 
And thus— this late — to plant anew 

The garden of my heart ? 

Good-by ! Ah, love, shall years and years 

Their pains and sorrows bring — 
Shall the purple twilight's fall of tears 

Oft drop 'neath Night's black wing — 
Shall the moonbeam's ghost of a kiss oft fly 

From a rose to a lily near — 
Without one glimpse into your sweet eye 

Or a touch from your hand, dear ? 

Good-by ! my heart shall still be true, 

Be it not otherwise — 
I've only lived since loving you, 

Since looking in your eyes ! 



38 Waifs from, Wild Meadows. 

My heart and I shall bury deep 
Each tender look ; somewhere 

Within some sacred precinct keep 
Them hidden ever there ! 

Good-by ! Be still, she's gone, my heart, 

Out of our lives. No sigh 
She gave, or look, or tear, or smart, 

Nor heard our stifled cry ! 
Now heart, we'll lock the casket lid. 

No sign the world shall see 
Of the love that 'neath its cover's hid ; 

Then— we'll live in the use-to-be ! 



GEORGIA CHEEK. 

I've heared to-day a curious thing, 
An' I don't know what ter say — 

It beats anything that I hav' heared 
In many an' many a day ! 

They say sum bloomin' ijiot's 
Been knockin' 'round in the cold 

Away up north, an' sum'eres thar 
Run agin the old North Pole. 



Waifs from Wild Meadows. 39 

Believe it ? Dun'no — but I believe 

In things bein' square an' fair ; 
An' if they've really found it, 

We're gywin' ter hav' our share ! 

You wait— an' sum old Georgy tack 

(An' if he don't he'll most), 
'LI git a piece an' bring it back 

Ter use as a hitchin' post. 



LIFE AND DEATH. 

God's glorious skies above you. 
And hearts that fondly love you, 

Flowers blooming sweetly — close of strife ; 
The sunshine warmly beaming, 
Or the moonlight's tender gleaming, 
And your motto, "On and upward;" 
That is Life ! 

When hearts you thought had loved you 
Prove false ; and the heavens above you 
Ai-e darkened by the storm king's fierce-blown breath ; 



40 Waifs from Wild Meadows. 

And you do not see the gleaming 
Of the mercy light that's streaming 
From the gates of Heaven ajar ; 
That is Death ! 



WEARY. 

I'm weary, so weary of wand'ring 

Out in the cold and the night, 
Tired, how tired of living 

Out of the warmth and the light ; 
I'm weary and waiting and willing, 

Ready my Saviour to meet, 
There to lay down my burden. 

And forever rest at His feet. 
I'm weary, so weary of waiting 

Out in the storm to roam. 
Weary and waiting and list'ning. 

For the summons, "Child, come home !' 
AVilling and waiting and longing. 

To spring to my Master's breast, 
To feel His dear arms about me, 

And to hear His whispered, "Rest." 



Waifs from Wild Meadows, 41 

A LULLABY. 

The night wind's breath comes sweet and slow, 
And pauses to list to a crooning low, 

That hushes a babe's soft cry ; 
For stilled are the tiny, weary feet, 
As close to her breast it slumbers sweet. 

To mother's own lullaby. 

The night wind's breath comes fierce and fleet. 
As it follows the storm king's swift-winged feet, 

And stifles a mother's cry ; 
For the babe has entered the Garden of Sleep, 
On the breast of a lily it slumbers sweet. 

To an angel's lullaby. 

Hush, poor mother! the thorn is sharp, 

But list to the sound of the wind-blown harp, 

As it sings with a gladdened cry ; 
Some day you'll enter the Garden of Rest, 
And close to your babe on the lily's breast, 

Hear God's own lullaby. 



42 Waifs from Wild Meadoivs. 

LOVE. 

A maddened horse, a helpless form, 
A wild dash down the street, 

A sudden spring, the horse has stopped, 
A still form's 'neath its feet ! 

God looked down from heaven and smiled, 
And He knew 'twas not the end. 

For "no greater love hath man than this: 
That he lay down his life for his friend." 



BROWN'S VIEW OF THE X-RAY. 

"What will the people invent next? 

I jes' would like ter know. 
It 'pears ter me they've got enough — 

But still they're 'ventin' more. 
Fer now I hear some German chap, 

(Lord, help him fer a sinner!) 
Has 'vented a thing ter look yer through, 

An' see what yer et fer dinner ! 



Waifs from Wild Meadoios. 43 

Blinds? jes' well tak' 'em down, 

They ain't no circumstance ! 
Shingles don't stan' no showin', 

An' a door ain't got no chance ! 
Jes' well not ter hav' no house — 

It's rilin' ter me, sho' — 
Fer every time yer wash yer face 

Yer neighbor'll hav' ter know ! 

An' when the parson cums ter tea 

An' yer happen ter carve yer hand, 
Gee whiz! them cuss words in yer head. 

Will show up like a man ! 
Onions an' spice won't do no more — 

Ter drink will sho' be risky, 
Fer Mary Ann '11 look right straight 

An' see that quart o' whisky. 

An' when she wants an Easter hat, 

An' ax's me fer the money, 
An' I say, "I ain't got nary cent 

Er you could hav' it, honey," 



44 Waifs from Wild Meadows. 

She'll take an X ter find an X, 

Bet your life she will, 
An' say, "You Ebenezia Brown ! 

Fork over that ten-dollar bill !" 

Never wuz much on kickin', but be blanked, 

If I don't do sum now ; 
I'll git up a repetation 

Worse 'en our ol' brindle cow ! 
An' if I jes' had that Roentgen — 

Er whatever his name is — 
rd fix him so yer could see through him 

Without them rays o' his ! 



A RED ROSE'S LOVE. 

All day I lay in the glow of the sun, 

And flirted with the bumble-bees ; 
And my crimson cheek took a deeper hue, 

As I swayed to the arms of the passing breeze. 

All night I drowsily watched the stars, 

And bathed in the Lady Moon's shimmering light ; 
Till the dew-drops that lay on my blushing face 

Grew pale 'neath the smile of the queen of night. 



Waifs from Wild Meadows. 45 

Ah ! once a vision I beheld, 

I know not, be it day or night ; 
I only know I swooned away, 

In the very fervor of delight ! 
And when I awoke — ah, me! ah, me! 

Shall I ever forget my passion wild? 
And my cheek grew pale as her proud lips 

Were pressed to my face a little while. 
And then I reigned with the queen that night. 

As I lay 'midst the curls of her midnight hair, 
And men praised the beauty of the red, red rose, 

But gazed at the rose on her cheek so rare. 
And men would have gladly given worlds 

To have been one moment proud, happy me, 
To have felt one touch of her perfumed lips. 

To have died in a passion of ecstasy. 



TO-MORROW. 

Sad heart, how long must this thing last? 

Thou lying in silent gloom. 
Stirring the ashes of a dear dead past 

Smoldering in Memory's tomb ! 



46 Waifs from Wild Meadows. 

Thou hast no time to linger here 
Bear up, O faint, weak heart ! 

Thy day of joy may now be near, 
Thou and yesterday must part. 

To-day is thine. And see, sad heart, 
Life's sun is climbing fast ! 

Do well the task that is thy part 
Unfettered by the past ; 

For lo ! a glorious star yon gleams 
No light of pain or sorrow. 

And lying 'neath its sweetest beams, 
Thou'll dream of sweet To-morrow. 



ELLEYN. 

Stars, O stars ! ye jewels bright, 
That begem the midnight brow of night ! 
Two of your number have flown I ween. 
And shine as the eyes of sweet Elleyn. 

Bless her. 

Caress her, 

Dear starlight ! 



Waifs from Wild Meadows. 47 

O Lady Moon ! thou languid queen ! 
As into the arms of Night you lean ; 
Your shimmering light's not half so fair, 
As the shining sheen of Elleyn's hair ! 

Bless her, 

Caress her. 

Sweet Elleyn ! 

Night ! Night ! bend low and lean , 
And fold to your heart my sweet Elleyn ! 
Nor even let that sprite the breeze, 
Steal from her lips one kiss (the tease) ! 

Bless her, 

Caress her. 

Sweetheart! Queen! 



THE SHIP OF FATE. 

Alone I stand beside this sea — 
"With cold hands pressed 
'Gainst throbbing breast, 

Waiting for what the end may be. 



48 Waifs from Wild Meadows. 

Warm with longing, cold with fear, 
Hoping, yet dreading the end so near ; 
And a phantom ship on a phantom sea 
Sailing the west from my hopes and me. 

Proudly she breasts Death's dark'ning wave ; 

Now bravely stands 

At Fate's commands, 
Then sinks to the depths of a treacherous grave ; 
But swift as hope, her sails aglow, 
From the gloom of this grave she rises once more ; 
This phantom ship of a phantom sea. 
As a new-born star comes back to me. 

Anon a sea-gull's cry I hear, 

As white wings part 

With sudden start, 
The falling night that hovers near ; 
Yet still I watch with hope, with fear. 
With many a smile, with many a tear. 
This phantom ship on a phantom sea ; 
The ship of my fate — my destiny ! 



Waifs from Wild Meadows. 49 

LADY APRIL. 

That April is a lady with a fickle min' they say, 
But I'd ruther tak' my chances 'long with 'er any day 
'En any o' the other months that happen 'round this 
way; 

Fer April's skies is bluest. 

An' April's eyes is truest, 
Oh, April is a lady that's wurth any songster's lay. 

We all forgit the winter's wind when April's face 

appears, 
The birds all hunt their tune-books, the flowers forget 

their fears. 
An' we all 'ill welcome April, though we know she'll 

box our years ; 
Fer April's skies is brightest 
An' April's heart is lightest, 
'En let her box — she'll kiss the hurt, an' I'd like ter 

know who keres. 

Sumtimes she'll be a-smilin' like there war'n't no ache 

or pain. 
Look-out ! her tears 'ill drench yer, she'll soon be raisin' 

Cain! 



50 Waifs from Wild Meadows. 

But we all 'ill soon forgit ; keep lovin' jes' the same ; 

Fer April's eyes is truest, 

An' April's skies is bluest, 
An' sumhow — without April livin' 'ud be pretty tame. 

Although she will git frownified an' shut them eyes o' 

blue, 
Still now an' then yer ketch a glimpse o' laughter 

peepin' through ; 
An'- sumhow yer forgive 'er, now don't yer? Ain't it 

true? 
Fer April's skies is bluest, 
An' April's eyes is truest. 
An' April's skies and eyes is good enough fer me an' 

you. 

The birds begin a-callin' ter each other from the hills. 
An' the flowers 'gin ter primp in looking-glasses o' the 

rills ; 
An' my heart is nigh ter bustin' — but joy never kills, 

But our eyes are alius brightest, 

An' our hearts are alius lightest. 
When Lady April curls 'er hair an' fixes up 'er frills. 



Waifs from Wild Meadows, 51 



DEAR HEART. 
Dear heart, there is no sunshine 

That comes from heaven's sky, 
So tender and life-giving 

As love's welcome from your eye 

Dear heart, there is no shower 
The thirsting earth e'er sips, 

So thrilling and refreshing. 
As love's kisses from your lips ! 



Dear heart, there is no gladness 
Doth on God's earth abide. 

That can compare with life, love. 
When spent by your dear side ! 



SHADOWS. 

IN MEMORY OF J. F. H. 

What though the day be shadowed 
And darkness hovers nigh, 

And storm-clouds fly by swiftly 
Across a leaden sky ; 



52 Waifs from Wild Meadows. 

When past their dense black thickness 
The sun shines evermore, 

And the brightness seems the sweeter 
For the gloom that went before. 

What though our lives be shadowed 

And full of pain and grief, 
And dark clouds never brighten 

With the sunlight of relief ; 
When we know one day eternal. 

Though dreary be the while, 
We'll bask in God's own glory 

And the sunshine of His smile. 

What though our loved ones leave us, 

To breast the world alone, 
With none but God and the shadows 

To hear us make our moan ; 
When some sweet day of waiting 

Our loved one's kiss we'll meet, 
And thank God for His goodness 

AVhile kneeling at His feet. 



Waif s from Wild Meadoius . 53 

FOREVER AND AYE. 

She lies on a couch that's soft as down ; 

As she slumbers, the roses sweet 
Are drowsily humming with Mother Night 

As she sings the world to sleep. 
And she dreams of her lover far over the sea, 

For she prayed e'er to rest she lay, 
*'God, watch o'er my love, and some sweet time. 

Let us meet forever and aye. " 
He lies on the shore of a far-away sea, 

In a deep and a dreamless sleep ; 
Unheard is the mermaid's plaintive song 

And the wild waves kiss his feet ; 
Watched o'er by God's sentineled star-gemmed sky 

Thus the answered prayer : Some day 
In the future dim and in God's own time, 

They'll meet forever and aye. 



A GEORGY MULE. 

You've never seed one, stranger? 

You must be frum the North ; 
If yer ain't hearn tell uv a Georgy mule, 

Yer live a fur ways off ! 



54 Waif s from Wild Meadows. 

'Scribe him ? Jes' well try 
Ter 'scribe a lightnin' streak — 

But he kin do more work in half a day 
'En most mules in a week. 

Wall, he's jes' 'bout middlin' sized 

An' slender 'bout the neck — 
Looks like he'd taken anti-fat 

With quite a good effect — 
But bet he could kick that 'bacca 

Slick as greese frum out yer mouth ! 
Them 'eres the kind o' mules we raise 

Down here in the sunny South. 

Kick? He kin jes' beat anything, 

You don't know nothin' a-tall ; 
He kin kick all day an' kick all night, 

An' kick 'til late in fall; 
He kin kick the roof frum off the house, 

Tear up a big buzz-saw, 
An' if yer 've got a job fer him 

He kin kill yer mother-in-law. 



Waifs from Wild Meadows. 55 

Gentle ? Wall now, stranger, 

You're a leetle too much fer me, 
Fer that's one thing about a mule 

Yer can't quite tell, yer see ; 
But I hearn tell uv a mule what worked 

Fer years, both days an' nights, 
Jes' ter git ter kick his boss 

Up ter the starry heights ! 



A SONG OF NIGHT. 

Many years ago when the world was young, 

And the stars together His glory sung, 

God made Day doff her colors bright 

And put on mourning ; and He called her Night. 

E'en now when the golden crown of the sun 

Is fast disappearing and the day's most done, 

Her sable gown she soon slips on , 

For her lover so fickle, the sun that's gone. 

And she weeps cool tears. They're the dew that falls ; 

Then loud and clear to the stars she calls 

For a mad, mad dance ; and she leads on 

And tries to forget her lover that's gone. 



56 Waifs from Wild Meadows. 

But the wise little stars heed not her call, 
For they say if they leave, God's floor will fall ; 
For didn't you know that the stars so bright, 
Were the nails that held Heaven's flooring tight ? 

So Night has to leave her dance too soon, 

In vain tries to flirt with the man in the moon, 

And how her heart aches ! With what longing yearns ! 

She'd best go to rest till her lover returns ! 

Then a sweet, solemn stillness comes creeping o'er all, 

And a silvery shower's beginning to fall ; 

As on the faces of flowers the moon doth pour 

Her passionate kisses — more and yet more. 

Then a rustling of leaves in a sycamore tree. 

And a mocking-bird's song as soft as can be, 

Comes floating on moonshine — now swift and now 

slow — 
Till it rests in the heart of a rose down below. 

Night awakes: she turns pale; her black garment 

slips off ; 
She must meet her dear lord in a gown gray and 

soft; 
And when he looks up from his couch of sweet rest, 
Night has vanished— Day springs to>is breast ! 



Waifs from Wild Meadows. 57 

SOME DAY. 

Some day, some day, when the sun is low, 
And the length'ning shadows gather slow ; 

And the birds doth sing 

And the breeze doth sigh, 

And the perfume of flowers floateth nigh. 
Ah me! ah me! but low I'll lay, 

'Neath the green, green grass, and the cold, dark clay. 
Will the day e'er seem less bright, less fair, 
To the loved ones left in waiting there ? 

Some day, some day, when the earth is drear 
And the muttering thunder's sound comes near, 

And the lightnings flash 

And the rain doth pour. 

Upon the earth I'll see no more. 
Ah me ! ah me ! from the warmth and light. 
Will their thoughts e'er turn out to the night? 
Will a tear be shed for the still, cold form 
Out alone with the night and the storm? 



58 Waifs from Wild Meadows. 

A CHANGE UV WEATHER. 

I never seed such weather since I've been livin', sho' ; 
It's as much as a feller's life is wurth ter git outside 

the door, 
An' the sun, he's had the measles, uv that thar ain't no 

doubt, 
Fer he's feared uv a relapse an' won't even stick his 

ol' nose out. 
An' the birds, they ain't a-singin', 'pears like thar's 

^ sumthin' wrong, 
An' the violets ain't a-bloomin' ; tain't bin so very long 
Since I seed their star-eyes peepin' like violet drops o' 

rain , 
An' I brung 'em home ter Mary (wonder when she'll 

cum agin?) — 
Now thar's them honeysuckles over thar by the win- 
dow-place, 
Jes' a-droopin' an' a-dyin' fer the sight uv a woman's 

face; 
An' when I set at night thar on the front steps all 

alone, 
The hot tears keep a-droppin', wishin' Mary wuz at 

home, 



Waifs from Wild Meadows. 59 

Drat it ! thar's that door-bell ; who in the mischief kin 

it be 
A-comin' here such weather? it's more 'en I kin see ; 
Sum folks ain't got no conscience — what is it that yer 

say? 
A letter! Why I ain't had one since Mary went away ! 

Glory, hallelulya ! hear what this has got ter gay : 
"Dear John, when you git this here note, I'll be home 

the next day." 
Whoop! gimme my ol' hat here, I want ter shout an' 

sing; 
This is such glorious weather an' I'm happy as a king. 

The birds has found their tune-books an' a-singin' 
strong an' loud, 

An' the rainbow is a-bendin' an' a-kissin' every cloud. 

Beastly we&thev, did you say? Why, man, yer're off 
yer track ; 

It's the heavenliest kind o' weather, an' Mary's a-com- 
in' back. 



60 Waifs from Wild Meadows, 

THE ANSWERED PRAYER. 

The ghost of a man walked the earth one night, 
While the fierce wind tangled his hair ; 

And he wrung his hands and his dark, weii*d eyes 
Blazed bright with a wild despair. 

This ghost of a man was praying fast. 

And these were the words he said : 
"0 God ! I couldn't conceive on earth 

Of such punishment for the dead. 

"What deed did I do that I'm compelled 

This fearful sight to see ; 
The misery of those on earth 

Dear as my soul to me ; 

**I see my wife starving, almost, 

And out in the storm and the cold, 
And I long with unutterable longing her form 

Into my arms to fold. 

"0 God, my one prayer answer me, 

Ere her heart breaks with pain ; 
Let her feel my arms about her. 

Let her know I'm with her again ! 



Waifs from Wild Meadows. 61 

"Then do as thou wilt with me, 

I'll by thy will abide;" 
Then the storm-fiend passed by wailing— 

That night the woman died. 



MARJORIE. 



TO M. W. W. 



Marjorie, baby Marjorie, 

With crumpled rose-leaf lips, 
Through which, gently breathing, 

The dawn of a new life slips ; 
Methinks, the angels sleeping, 

One sunny April day 
You crept through the door of Heaven 

And a cloud bore you away. 

Marjorie, little Marjorie, 
With twin pansy dew-drop eyes. 

Is it true you sometimes see those 
You left behind the skies ? 



62 Waijs from Wild Meadows. 

Do they, in your dreaming, 

Whisper words of love, 
And tell you how they miss you 

In their playhouse above? 

Marjorie, sweetest Marjorie, 

With darling dimpled chin, 
I've wondered what could have happened 

To set that dimple in. 
" Listen : when an angel 

Kissed your brow and hair. 
And then your chin, he kissed so hard. 

He left that dimple there. 

Marjorie, baby Marjorie, 

We thank God every day 
That of His spirit-children, you, the sweetest, 

He sent this way, 
And as I kiss your smiling mouth 

And rosy, dimpled chin, 
I gaze into your eyes and catch 

A glimpse of Heaven therein. 



Waifs from Wild Meadows. 63 

THAT PICNIC. 

Oh, picnic time in Georgia ! I tell yer, aint it fine? 
Fer a day in the woods — an' dinner's — jes' suited ter 

my min'. 
Lay down an' look up through the trees, the sky a- 

showing through, 
'Pears like a crazy quilt pieced out o' scraps o' green 

an' blue. 
I went ter one the other day ; I was jes' tuck along 
Ter kinder sorter fill up ; didn't think I'us doin' wrong, 
An' after we all got thar an' every one wus out, 
I set down on a pine stump an' thought I'd look e'bout. 

The birds they wus a singin' an' a-makin' lots o' noise, 
And the leaves they wus a-sighin' like luv-sick girls 

an' boys ; 
Then by-an'by I woke up an' looked from left to right, 
If you believe what I've to say, thar warn't a soul in 

sight ! 
Then I started out ter search fer 'em, an cum upon a 

pair. 
But they looked jes' like they'd like ter fight, with me 

ter furnish hair. 



64 Waifs from Wild Meadows. 

Then— the next smiled kinder sick-like, axed me ter 

hav' a seat, 
Thenlooked as if they'us hungry an' wanted metereat ! 

'Twas "spoon, spoon, spoon," with nary a star or moon, 
'Tel I cum ter the conclusion 'twas time for me ter 

"spoon" ; 
So I run agin a freezer, an' down on the gi'ound I set, 
With a couple o' spoons — an' didn't I spoon? Wall, 

yes, you'd better bet ! 
Next time I bet them spooners 'ill take it turn erbout, 
Watch me so I'll not git a chance ter spoon their ice- 
cream out ; 
But then they needn't bother, fer I tell you, I've al- 
lowed. 
That I'll not picnic agin soon erlong with a "spoony" 
crowd. 



TO AN OLD MINIATURE. 

As I gaze on your eyes, dark beauty 
My lady, most weird, most fair; 

I would I might read the secrets, 
That are lying imprisoned there ; 



Waifs from Wild Meadows. 65 

Your name — I would so like to know it — 

Was it Mignonette, Mabel or Claire? 
No name could be ever half worthy 

Of a lady so dainty, so fair ! 

And your lovers — how did you e'er count them? 

I'm sure must have been by the score, 
For men could not have eyes, and have used them, 

And remained from your side, that I know. 
And the duels? Ah ! now your eyes lighten, 

I suspect there're a dozen or so 
(For a week you'd, perchance, mourn his memory, 

And call him your dead hero) . 

And then, at last — did you marry? 

Was it love, or gold gave you name? 
Ah, I see a faint mocking smile spreading, 

O'er the lips that love's kisses should claim ! 
Pshaw ! e'en as I am, my lady 

I'd never allow myself sold. 
And I wouldn't be you — cold — heartless — 

For all of your beauty and gold ! 

6 



66 Waifs from Wild Meadows. 

A NIGHT IN JUNE. 

Swinging, 

Clinging, 

Roses bending slow ; 

Dancing, 

Prancing, 

Moonbeams come and go ; 

Shining, 

Shining, 

Dew-drops tender glow ; 

Sighing, 

I>ying, 
Zephyrs breathing low. 

Swinging, 

Clinging, 

Hands as white as snow ; 

Dancing, 

Prancing, 

Eyes that gleam and glow ; 

Shining, 

Shining, 

Making my heart sore ; 

Sighing, 

Dying, 

For love of Leonore. 



Waifs from Wild Meadows. 67 

BEYOND. 

Beyond the driving storm 
And lightnings flashing in the face of night ; 
There lies, poor soul, a haven fair and warm, 
And light— thy light ! 
Beyond the thorns so sharp 
In a garden fair where every flower grows ; 
You'll find, led by the tinkling of love's harp, 
A rose — thy rose! 
Beyond this life so fleet 
There is a place to lay all burdens down ; 
And at thy Saviour's all-forgiving feet, 
A crown — thy crown ! 



A SONG OF THE RAIN. 

Hush! 

Don't yer hear that patter 

On the roofln' uv your house, 
Like the fairies wus a-havin' of a dance? 

Don't you recognize that sound? 

Law ! I'll inter juice yer, then ; 
Ho, Rain-drop ! this is Mister Igno-Rance 



68 Waifs from Wild Meadows. 

List! 

Don't yer hear that lily sighin' 

In a soft an' sweet content, 
As the rain-drops wash the dust frum out her eye? 

An' she likes it. Don't yer hear 

Her crooning slowly with the breeze, 
Ter hush the baby rain-drop's timid cry? 

Look! 

Don't yer see that rose a-flirtin* 

With the elfin uv the rain, 
An' a hidin' hin' the trellis, jes' ter tease? 

While she shakes the dewy kisses 

Frum her crimson velvet lips, 
Jes' ter set that elfin beggin' on his knees. 

Hush! 

Don't yer hear that bird a singin' 

Like he'd split his little self. 
All a-bendin' an' a-swayin' in the trees? 

Sassy thing ! hear him mockin' 

An' a twittin' uv the rain : 
''Mister Rain-drop, yer can't hurt me!" 



Waifs from Wild Meadows. 69 

Listf 

Don't yer hear the rustle 

Uv the green fern's dainty dress, 
As she's singin' uv a song so sweet an' low? 

"Oh, once I primped my tresses 

In the brooklet's lookin'-glass, 
Mister Rain-drop, I think we've met before !" 

Look! 

Don't yer see that 'brella 

Comin' walkin' down the street? 
I wonder who's a hidin' 'neath its brim ! 

Thar, he kissed her, an' she's blushin', 

An the look that's in her eyes 
Shows she thinks thar's nothin' livin' 'ceptin' him i 

Law! 

Don't yer see the earth a-swellin' 

An' a puck'rin' up her lips, 
Ter meet the rain-drop's kisses comin' sweet? 

Whole creation's glad they're livin' 

Jes' ter see the daisies' eyes 
Twinklin' un like drowned starlets at yer feet ! 



70 Waifs from Wild Meadows. 

BEST. 

There, there, dear heart, why mourn so? 

Lay that poor throbbing head 
Upon my breast and cry it out ; 

Yes, dear, they say he's dead ! 
Who knows what might have happened 

In some far distant day 
To grieve you both? And this, God willed 

That he should pass away. 

Who knows but in the future 

Mayhap his love grown cold — 
There, there, don't start and tremble, 

Poor, sad, grief-stricken soul! 
Better that this should happen now, 

Though your heart be torn with pain. 
Than you should find that love was dead 

And could not live again ! 

But now you know he loves you, 
(Though he lies cold to-day,) 

That you love him and know and feel 
That he is yours alway. 



Waifs from Wild Meadows. 71 

I know it's hard, my dear one, 

There now — let's go to rest. 
Though the thorn is sharp, remember, dear, 

That God knows best. 



AFFINITY. 



Our eyes first met and lingered, then it seemed 
An old friend found, hand clung to hand ; 

Light sprung from soul to answering light that beamed 
And seemed to know and understand. 

Who knows but what in some pale trembling star, 
Whose ray sifts through the mists above 

To add its light to those that gleam afar, 
Our souls, mayhap, did live and love? 



A LIFE. 



A tiny feather, snowy white. 

Floated by one day ; 
It had doubtless dropped from an angel's wing 

As he crossed the milky way. 



72 Waifs from Wild Meadows. 

It floated near, 

It floated far ; 
It basked in the light of the evening star, 
Till Life found it, crowned it, 

And it lived. 
A lovely maiden wandered through 
The garden of Life, which seems 
But one vast field o'erscattered 
With roses sweet and dreams. 

She wandered here, 

She wandered there; 
She twined white roses in her hair, 
Till love found her, crowned her. 

And she loved. 
A woman fair on the sea of Love, 
Set sail from her maiden land. 
And Faith was the captain of the ship. 
And 'twas steered by Hope's own hand; 

But winds and waves 

Beset this bark. 
And oft 'twas light, still oftener dark. 
Thus Sorrow found her, crowned her, 

And she wept. 



Waifs from Wild Meadows. 78 

A weary woman dreaming sat, 
She dreamed of the long ago, 
Of star heights gained, of falls to depths 
Of misery and woe. 

Yet still she dreams 
Of the long ago, - 
Of laughter, tears, of joy, but lo ! 
Death has found her, crowned her — 
She is dead ! 



THE WAY PAP READ IT. 

Pap was readin' o' Riley's poems 
And this was the way he read : 

"When the frost is on your punkin," 
Then he stopped and scratched his head. 

"Didn't think he'd be a-makin' 
Fun o' gray hairs," he softly said ; 

"Yas, the frost is on my punkin. 
But I'd ruther he'd caU it head." 



74 Waifs from Wild Meadows, 

THE VOICES. 

When God's sweet stars 

Through twilight's bars, 
Look down on the world at rest 

With twinkling hearts 

Shine forth as parts 
Of Heaven's jeweled breast ; 

When softly steals 

The distant peals 
Of a mighty thunder's roll ; 

From what dim sphere 

For smile or tear, 
Come these voices to my soul? 

When darkness falls 

Some spirit calls, 
And will not give me rest ; 

Night, thou Queen ! 

Toward me lean, 
And take me to thy breast : 

These voices speak — 

My soul is weak. 



Waifs from Wild Meadows. 75 

I know not their command ; 

Oh, for some light — 

Oh, to hear aright — 
That I may understand ! 



COMPENSATION. 
Did you ever hear of the rivalry 

Between the Night and the Day, 
For the love of that gorgeous monster, 

The Sun, in his bright array? 
Day was a dashing damsel 

In crimson dress and gold — 
And she loved the Sun's caresses. 

So daring, bright and bold ! 

Night was a tender maiden. 

Retiring, pure and sweet- 
She loved the Sun with mind content 

To worship at his feet. 
Now the Sun— the heartless rascal- 
Chose Day to be his own ; 
And thus it is until this time, 
Sweet Night weeps all alone. 



76 Waifs from Wild Meadows. 

But methinks the bride regretted 

The choice the Sun had made, 
For on the face of each fair flower 

His kisses are often laid ; 
Methinks he too regretted, 

For I note with sad surprise, 
How his last ray often lingers 

For a glimpse into Night's sweet eyes ! 
And Day sees this, and is jealous, 

And she flaunts her golden dress 
Back into the face of Night, 

E're she sinks with the Sun to rest ; 
But Night, though weary-hearted. 

Puts her great grief away ; 
And soothes and heals the sorrows made 

By the Sun and the careless Day. 
And many's the drooping flower 

She holds with gentle grace, 
Till they open their eyes and upward look 

Into Night's sweet, tender face; 
And many's the little dew-drops, faint. 

From the Sunlight's rude caress, 
Smile and shine when they feel themselves 

Pressed to Night's great breast ! 



Waifs from Wild Meadows. 77 

The stars look down with shining eyes 

On the world at peace and rest, 
And God looks down on Night and smiles 

For He knows that Night is best ; 
For near her heart millions of souls 

Have lost all grief, all care. 
And up from the soul of the Universe 

Comes one grand, silent prayer ! 



A TOWN "TACK." 

Yer hear folks talk o' the country, 

Uv its calm an' peaceful life, 
An' uv how it beats the city 

With all its noise an' strife ; 
But I guess I've rusticated 

Several days by loafin' 'round 
In that **calm an' peaceful valley ;" 

But fer goodness — gemme town ! 

I wanter kinder be whar 

I kin see a thing o' two. 
An' hear uv all the 'tic'lars. 

If thar's anything that's new 



78 Waifs from Wild Meadows. 

I wanter hear the whistles 
An' the wagon's rumbling sound, 

An' all them noises an' fusses 
What you hear about a town. 

Some folks may think it very nice, 

Ter live out whar they be 
Alone with nuother Nature ; but lor ! 

The way they run ter see 
When anything is passin', 

(Most break their necks I'm bound,) 
An' wonder what an' who it is 

A-going into town. 

I stayed out thar a week myself 

Ten year er more ago ; 
One mornin' I cum walkin' in — 

('Bout twenty mile er so ;) 
An' right here now you'll fin' me, 

I'm alius loafin round ; 
The country may suit some folks ; 

But, by gum I gemme town ! 



Waifs from Wild Meadows. 79 

AN EASTER SONG. 

Bright was the sky ; 
From Calvary's brow had sped the gloom, 
Though the quivering earth fast threatened doom ; 
But from our Saviour's close-sealed tomb 

Hark ! hear the cry 

Of glad surprise ! 
A glorious song through Heaven doth ring ! 
Sing! sun, moon, stars, together sing 
Loud praises, for your Lord and king 

To-day doth rise ! 

With each breath 
Let joyous sound of praises ring I 
Sing! heart, lips, tongue, forever sing, 
For there doth rise with Christ our King, 

Our soul from death ! 



80 Waifs from Wild Meadows. 

THE BREEZE. 

The soft, cool breeze, with gentle breath, 
At eventide, the old day's death 

Doth mourn with pensive sigh ; 
Even the stars look pale and dim 
As if they fain would weep for him, 

While the breeze sobs passing by. 

It blows the rose leaves to my face. 
It gently lifts and fans the lace 

About my throat — caresses my hair ; 
But why should it mourn the day that's dead 
With the faint stars hanging overhead? 

For the day has gone where there's never a care. 

Its gentle touch upon my brow 
Is sweet and restful ; then and now 

Upon my lips a kiss lets fall ; 
Ah, breeze, sweet breeze! you'd fain deceive 
And then you'd leave me alone to grieve, 

I'm afraid you're a flirt and make love to all ! 



Waifs from Wild Meadows, 81 

When Heaven's lamps glow in the skies, 
Resembling countless blinking eyes, 

You steal a kiss from a maiden's cheek ; 
And yet you say you are constant — true ! 
Why, there's never a rose that would believe you ! 

There's never a violet would be so weak ! 

But, somehow, breeze, I hope my life 
Will be more like you, heedless of strife 

To calmly go on and rest at last ; 
Rose, violet,— all, for your stay pleads. 
But into the future your journey leads, 

And you came from the dear dead past ! 



SOMEBODY. 
What care I if the day be dark 

And from gloom no moment free? 
With twilight comes sweet recompense, 

Somebody still loves me I 
What care I if life be drear 

And burdens be my part? 
Somebody's kiss at eventide 

Will lift them from my heart I 



82 Waifs from Wild Meadows. 

What care I if the world be cold 

And my pathway lie apart? 
When well I know that I possess 

Somebody's loving heart. 
What though the cares that linger 'round 

Press heavy on my breast? 
Somebody's eyes will drown them all 

And bring me peace and rest ! 



THE MEETING. 

I tell yer what, yer orter been eround the other day 
Ter our club an' heard jes' what we women had ter say ; 
Fer we hav' bout decided that fer eighteen hundred years 
The men hav' been a-bossin' things in this 'ere "vale o' 
tears!" 

An' now the time has cum ter stop, we've started on 

the wing — 
An' yer jes' give us half a chance, an won't we make 

things sing ! 
Fer we've organized a club an' its political at that. 
An' we talk o' things more samer than the latest style 

o' hat. 



Waifs from Wild Meadows. 88 

The Widow Simpkins, she was thar, an' in her best silk 

gown: 
I'll tell yer (though in confidence,) she's too smart fer 

this town ; 
An' little Mrs. Pickett, an' Dr. Grayson's wife, 
The Skinner girls (they've seen at least some forty 

years o' life) ! 

But oh, we had a rousin' time an' voted all we'usable, 
An if the motions didn't suit, we laid 'em on the table ; 
An' thar sum uv 'ems lyin' yet, an' as to why an' how — 
Why we all talked out in meetin' an' we broke up in a 
row! 

Oh well, yer couldn't jes' expect a woman not ter talk, 
It seems ter cum so nat'ral like, an' then fer us ter 

walk 
Ter that 'ere meetin' onct a week, an' not ter hav' our 

say? 
Why we'd ruther keep it organized an' break up 

every day ! 

Fer if the men keep bossin' 'an a makin' o' the laws, 
Why all we kin do is ter talk an' plead the woman's 
cause ! 



84 Waif s from Wild Meadows. 

An' maybe 'twould be best ter stop, but then yer 

must allow 
That its jes' lots o' solid fun, ter break up in a row ! 



MARGUERITE. 

'Twas years ago 
On a foreign shore. 
Oould ever heart love more? 
My dainty, witching Marguerite, 
Pure and fragile, pale and sweet. 
And oh, I loved her so ! 

When a thousand stars 
Lit up the bars 
And gleamed across the bay, 
When she drew the bow across the string, 
And the violin sang like a living thing. 
She played my heart away. 
But then, my friend. 
You'll guess the end : 
She left this darkened land, 
Up where the stars together sing 
Praises to our Lord and king. 
She dwells with an angel band. 



Waifs from Wild Meadows. 85 

My Marguerite, 
So fair, so sweet ! 
Some day our souls shall meet. 
For the Angel of Death to me shall say : 
"Come, weary mortal, come this way," 
And I'll see you, my own, my sweet. 

And then how sweet 
My weary feet 
Will rest on that sacred sod. 
And a touch of the string from that golden bow, 
Will set my heart aflame, aglow. 
And play my soul to God. 



REWARDED. 

When the sunshine showers gold 
From the vaulted blue above you. 

And you have friends both new and old 
With hearts that seem to love you, 

In your life I have no place. 

You shake your head with careless grace, 

See not the pleading in my face, 
Think not that I love you. 



86 Waifs from Wild Meadows. 

But when the sunshine turns to gloom 

And skies are dark above you, 
And in the hearts you find no room 

Of those you thought had loved you, 
Ah ! then the way my heart shall find, 
Hoping, waiting, love's sure sign 
Will win you, sweetheart, make you mine, 
For then you'll know I love you. 



OL' ABE. 



Yer know' ol' Abe Skinflinter? 

Wall, whether you do er not. 
He's that lantern-jawed ol' hoosier 

Livin' down at Possum Trot ; 
But if yer've ever knowed him 

Yer'll remember, show's yer born, 
Fer he's the onorest contraried creature 

Yer ever set two eyes on. 

Whenever it would rain a spell 

An' kinder soak the gi'oun', 
(Jes' give a real good seasonin'), 

or Abe 'ud stalk eroun' : 



Waifs from Wild Meadows. 87 

"It 'pears ter me hit'll never stop !" 

(As mad as any Turk) , 
"I'd set this very day o' days 
Ter do sum special work." 

Then maybe fer a day o' two 

It wouldn't rain er drop, 
But lovely kind uv weather 

Yer'd meet him pipin' hot : 
"Why folks can't hav' a drap er two 

Is a mystery ter me ; 
I can't do nary scrap er work 

'Tel it jes' rains, yer see." 

If oV Abe gits ter heaven 

Through them gates er gold an' pearl, 
He'll be mighty apt ter slip in 

In the midst er rush an' whirl. 
I ken see ol' Abe er struttin' 

'Round them streets o' jasper bright, 
Er askin' all the angels why 

They don't hav' 'lectric light. 



88 Waifs from Wild Meadows. 

An* he soon 'ud be inquirin' 

Why they didn't hav' a lark 
An' hav' a few stray niggers 'round 

Ter play the white folks' harp, 
An' 'bout the Tree o' Life he'd ask, 

(Jes' like ol' Abe 'twould be) : 
"St. Peter, don't you think yon spot 

More suited ter this tree?" 

He never yet wuz satisfied — 

Never in his life. 
One day he went off sum'eres 

And brought him back er wife. 
Satisfied now? I guess not, 

I heard him mutterin' o' 'sperience schools. 
An' wonderin' why the Lord did make 

Menfolks such blear-eyed fools. 



MY HEART'S DESIRE. 

One day within the garden of my heart, 
I found a beauteous bud but half revealed ; 

For fear that some less gentle hand might hurt, 
I kept the garden-gate close-locked and sealed. 



Waifs from Wild Meadows. 89 

But lo ! one day the bud of my desire 

Was blighted. With moan I checked my heart's 
loud cry 
Against God's will, and then, with tearless eye, 

I sat and moaned and sighed and wondered why. 

Oft 'gainst our own desires He balks our way. 
Lest we should disappointed be and sad ; 

He saves us from ourselves, and blossoms sweet 
Spring up about our path and make us glad. 

One day I oped the garden of my heart. 
Half trembling. My soul her garb of sorrow slips, 

For there more lovely, purer than the old, 
A flower, new, leaned trembling to my lips. 



WHEN I DIE. 

When I die, 
I would some hands could cross mine on my breast, 
O'er my poor, pulseless heart, cold and at rest, 
And say: "These hands did what they thought was 
best," 

When I die. 



90 Waifs from Wild Meadows. 

When I die, 
I would some eye above my coflBn-lid 
Could free its fountain's pent-up tears long hid, 
For joy that I lived as my Master bid, 

When I die. 

When I die, 
I would some lip that oft had pressed my own 
Could, trembling, kiss mine once again alone 
And whisper, *' 'Gainst His will you ne'er made moan,' 

When I die. 

When I die, 
I would some quivering voice to me might say: 
"The faults are here, beloved, but now, to-day, 
We'll bury them beneath a voiceless clay," 

When I die. 

When I die, 
I would some heart would moan out to the night 
For loss of mine, but bear His will aright, 
Resolved to meet me in that land of light, 

When I die. 



Waifs from Wild Meadows. 91 

But e'er I die, 
I pray some loving words to me be said, 
Some benedictions placed upon mvy head, 
For living hearts are warmer than the dead, 

Ere I die. 



SINCE MARY WENT AWAY. 

Sumtimes I feel so res'less-like since Mary went away, 
Seems like I don't kno' what ter do ; but almos' every 

day 
When I hear the birds a-singin' and the sunlight seems 

so glad, 
I wonder how they hav' the heart with me a-feelin' 

sad. 

When is she a-comin' back? Why, never; fer yer see 
She's quite a little distance off, away frum you an' me, 
But I alius feel she's watchin' me with ol'-time lovin' 

kere. 
For Mary is in Heaven an' Heaven's behin' them 

clouds up there. 



92 Waifs from Wild Meadows, 

Then when the sun's a-settin' 'mong them clouds o' 

red an' gold 
An' raps 'em all about him, like he's feelin' kinder 

cold, 
An' the dusky shadders lengthen' an' the whip-per- 

will's sad song 
Gums faint across the meador an' goes echoin' along ; 

I feel jes' like I want 'er die an' go where Mary be, 
'TeJ the stars they cum a-peepin', looks so lovin'-like 

at me. 
Then I feel a long sight better, an' they whisper ter me, 

too: 
"Mary sends her love an' says she's waitin' there fer 

you." 

I alius git up airly, when the fust faint streaks o' red 
Cum a-clim'in' o'er the hilltops, an' the night is 

almos' dead. 
An' the breeze begins a-stirrin' ; day has hired it, no 

doubt, 
Ter git up every mornin' an' blow the lights o' heaven' 

out: 



Waif s from Wild Meadows . 93 

Then I wait until they all are gone excep' one little 

light 
An' waft a hundred kisses— send 'em by the dyin' 

night, 
Whisper, "Giv' 'em all ter Mary, say I'm tryin' ter 

find the way," 
An' yer don't kno' how much better I'm a-feelin' aU 

that day. 



JUNE-HEARTED. 

Oh, I'm jes' so tarnal happy, 

Don't kere if the birds don't tune, 
Don't kere if the flowers ain't bloomin', 

My heart's a perfect June. 
Don't kere if the sky is weepin', 

Don't kere if her eyes do smart, 
Don't kere 'bout the mists a-risin', 

Fer its lovely in my heart. 

Why, ol' fellow, what's the matter? 

Don't turn pale, tremble, start! 
I ain't crazy, I'm jes' happy, 

Fer there's summer in my heart. 



94 Waifs from Wild Meadows. 

Wanter know jes' what's the matter? 

Listen close, then— here it be : 
Las' night, with the stars a-listenin', 

Molly said she wuz lovin' me ! 



THE STORY OF THE WHITE ROSE. 

'Twas first beneath a Southern sky my bud unfolded. 

When? 
Ah well, I count the years by stars, not suns, 
But e'en had it for centuries been. 
Still would my heart grow faint and quiver with the 

memory — and regret. 
My home was in a garden where all flowers dwelt : 
The violet with wondering eyes gazed up 
Upon the stately lily's pallid brow ; 
And star-eyed daisies with bended heads 
And lids low-drooped to hide the tender light. 
There listened to the wooing of the breeze. 

'Twas there the first rays of a Southern sun 
Each morning kissed me softly on the brow 
And bade me wake ; 



Waifs from Wild Meadows. 95 

And I was glad 'twas light again, 

And gently shook the dew 

From out my eyes, and looked to see what new 

Glory had been added to the world. 

Then would I listen— listen— till a step I heard— 

And then a face would come, before which 

All other glories paled ! 

And she would press my crimson lips 

A-quiver, to her cheek, and tell me of her love. 

"Red rose, thou shalt go to him some day 

And tell him how I love him ! God knows. 

And thou ; 

Thou shalt win his love for me ! 

Thy beauty shall delight his eye— 

Thy sweetness, brighter make his way— 

Thou happy rose !" 

Then would the evening shadows fall, and soon, 

Cradled in the moonbeam's arms. 

Lulled by the soft song of sweet mother Night, 

I'd fall asleep and dream. 

I'd dream of how I brought his love to her, 

And how we three dwelt gloriously 

And forever in a star ! 



96 Waifs from Wild Meadows. 

One sad day, the footstep that I listened for 

Fell not upon my longing ear ; 

Oh, how long a day it was ! 

Once more the night-wind swept her harp 

And whispered nothings to the stars ; 

Once more a-down the shade of twilight's bars 

Night's song fell soft, and dreamed I of we three 

But, oh, it was so cold, and dark, and drear! 

Until I felt a touch, warm, like 

T4ie falling dew upon my face ; 

I open'd my eyes and looked up into hers. 

Her face was as the lily's now. 

And soft the dew fell from her eyes ; 

And as she pressed me to her cheek, 

I could not help but shrink, so cold it was. 

"My rose," she whispered brokenly, 
"I can not live without his smile — 
Without the warmth of his great love, 
But I can die ! 

And thou wilt bring me there his love 
Somewhere beyond the sky." 



Waifs from Wild Meadows. 97 

I must have swooned for I did not see 

The stars that night, 

Nor did I hear the whisp'rings of the breeze ; 

But when I woke I felt so numb and chill. 

The place was dim and perfect quiet reigned ; 

Wee lights, but not the stars, 

Gleamed here and there, and looking up I found 

I lay against her face. 

But oh, how changed ! 

It was a broken flower that the storm had killed. 

The lily and the violet— the daisy, all were there. 

But not as I : 

For I was up where I might touch her lips ; 

Though they gave no answering kiss to mine. 

Closed were those eyes 

That had so oft caressed me with their tender glance. 

I felt myself caught up 

And burning kisses showered o'er my face ! 

A hot rain fell upon my brow ! 

Then knew I 'twas our loved one, 

For this he said to me : 



98 Waifs from Wild Meadows, 

"Ah, rose, I only would that I were you 
That I might lay my lips against her face 
And gcf with her into the other world ! 
That I might lay my head upon her heart 
Although it does not beat ! 
But you will hear my messages to her — 
You'll tell her how I love her, and how sweet 
The grave would be if only 'twere with her ! 
And tell her when that day of days doth come, 
On wings of love my spirit swift shall fly 
To be with thee and her !" 

Then slowly — slowly — I felt the red blood leave my 

cheek 
Drawn out by kisses from his lips ; 
And when he placed me o'er her pulseless heart, 
Bidding me there remain until that day, 
My brow was scarce less waxen 
Than her hand which held me there. 

Then came a time when all was dark, and cold. 
And drear ; I could not see the stars, 
Nor any glory of the world ; how long that was 
I know not. 



Waif s from Wild Meadows. 99 

But once I felt my heart expand 
As though to burst some prison bars, 
And lo, I saw again ! 

Above me gleamed the selfsame stars— 
Around me all the glory shone — 
But at my feet there lay a grave ; 
Gone were the blushes from my cheek, 
And my brow 
Might e'en rival the stately lily's now ! 

Each day our lover comes to me, 

And up from the depths of her dark, narrow home 

I bring her love to him ; 

And all those tender messages he pours into my ear, 

And those kisses on my lips, 

I carry down— down— to the very heart of her. 



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LIBRARY OF CONGRESS 

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